


Missing

by Niler



Series: All Change [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 03:42:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3342284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niler/pseuds/Niler





	Missing

 

 

Missing

 

 

 

 

The bed is literally too big without him.

Liam loves the big beds; _he_ prefers the ones where you can barely breathe with him next to you; where he’s on top of you all night long.

Liam jokes that he’s going to start calling him ‘Vinnie’, short for Vinnie the Vine and watch everyone struggle to work it out.

But Zayn smiles because he knows Liam loves that he clings, loves that he needs him close.

You get used to things.

Part of the thing that makes them work – the band, work - is that they have _routine_ at the core of their very existence. The reason they get things done is because everything’s been distilled down to its finer components and made into a sort of working template.

He likes routine, Liam not so much.

He’s lazy, Liam the polar opposite.

The reason they work so well is that they know this about each other and _accommodate_ each other’s nature.

Their _balance_ often astonishes him.

Liam’s gone and the bed’s too big without him, but Zayn’s not sleeping, he’s on Skype, pretending to be okay with just chatting, with simply seeing and not _feeling_.

“You look frazzled,” he says, in lieu of a love you.

“What do you expect - miss you.”

Zayn tries not to let Liam see what that does to him, but doesn’t know why he even bothers. Liam knows, that’s _why_ he said it. “Can’t wait two more days?”

“Not even two more hours, babe. You sure you got everything sorted?”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “How many times, man? I _got_ this.”

Liam smiles, the smile that says: “You’re such a grumpy bear. Why do I love you again?” That smile has got him out of trouble so many times it makes Zayn embarrassed to think on it. “I know, I know, babe, it’s just nerve wracking waiting for you.”

“You’re not being entertained?” There’s a bite in his tone, which he’s perfectly aware is there, doesn’t, in all honesty, even try to hide.

“By Tommo? Do me a bloody favour!”

Zayn shrugs, grins, lets it go. He can only joke about Sophia’s presence _sometimes_ , and Liam hardly at all. He shouldn’t have even gone there. It’s good that Liam ignored him. “I know he’s got plans. Not sure they involve _you_ , though.”

“Not sure whether to be insulted or relieved if I’m honest.”

“Go for relieved, trust me.”

“Oh. Like that?”

“ _Exactly_ like that.” Louis can be a lot of fun. He can also be a right pain in the arse. Zayn doesn’t appreciate him teasing Liam when he’s not there to supervise – or join in – has given him strict instructions, instructions Louis would do well to heed. Well, he says ‘instructions’, but it might be more accurate to substitute that for ‘proscriptions’. There are certain things he’s not allowed to do and obviously _all_ of them involve Liam.

If he gets there and Liam is ‘scratched’ in _any_ way, Louis will know about it!

“How’s the weather your end?”

Zayn resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Blazing hot, mate. Tropical heat, here.”

“I only asked. Could be throwing it down for all I know.”

“It’s not throwing it down, but it’s pretty bloody cold.”

“Even for the Bradford Bad Boy? Oh it must be like the Arctic down there right now, then.”

Zayn glares: Liam only ever calls him that when he’s trying to poke at him, when he’s got his feathers a little ruffled. “Bradford Bad Boy? Seriously, bro?”

“What? Not me who gave you that name.”

“No, but you’re the only one who keeps using it.”

“Only when you deserve it, babe.” He says this in a gentle, conversational tone, which successfully distracts Zayn long enough for him to let it go. Liam does things with his voice that Zayn imagines must be rooted in some sorcery-fuelled aspect of his make-up even Liam isn’t consciously aware of. How else to explain the way he can distract him, divert him, with his voice alone; how he can signal his intent, his wishes simply by subtle changes of intonation.

Well, it’s either Liam’s hidden talent or the fact that Zayn’s just completely under thrall.

“And I deserved it.” Wow, that sounded very much like a _statement_.

Liam smiles. It’s the ‘I’m kissing you’ smile. “You’re a grumpy bear today.”

“What do you expect?” Now _that_ sounded like an accusation.

“I’ll make it up to you. That is a promise.”

“Holding you to it, bro.”

“Please.”

Sighing, Zayn stares at him.

Liam returns the stare.

Saying ‘I love you’ would be redundant of course, but...

“Love you.”

“Love you more.”

 

 

**

 

When he told Liam ‘I got this’ he certainly meant it, which doesn’t mean that the getting of it’s exactly a walk in the park.

He’d done this several times before – dodging public scrutiny, travelling incognito. It’s just that it never gets any _easier_. The number of times he’s had to travel separately from Liam are way too many, and nothing’s changed; he still doesn’t travel well, still prefers to sleep, still hates the entire ordeal.

But the reward at the end of the ordeal is Liam – warm and cuddly Liam, intent on making up to him – so he’s going to have to firm it then, isn’t he?

Since he can’t sleep without Liam, being up in the early hours of the morning is no big deal. The only issue is the long flight and the jetlag afterwards.   But he’ll be with Liam so the jetlag can go fuck itself – until later, much, much later.

Oh and he’s looking forward to catching up with Harry, too.

All of that could wait, though.

Has to see what Liam has in mind for him.

 

**

 

Why hadn’t he got used to this?

Weren’t you supposed to get bored having sex with the same person day in and day out? How did doing this same activity _still_ make you feel this way?

It’s like a birthday/Christmas present you’ve been asking for every year and you swear you’ll be happy once you get it, swear it’ll be the only thing you’ll ever need or ever ask for, except once you get it, once you’ve played with it, had it for a while it loses its appeal.

Liam’s the gold watch you got on your 18th birthday which you keep for the rest of your life – the sort of gift that becomes a family heirloom. It becomes familiar, part of you, so much so, you feel naked without it, can never contemplate not having it on your wrist, and whenever you look at it you recall _exactly_ how it felt when you first saw it, can still, and will always see its perfection.

It never loses its appeal because it’s on a whole other plane from the standard presents you have ever and will ever receive.

He shouldn’t be surprised that Liam makes him feel this way, that sex with Liam still makes him feel this way, but he is.

Every single time he finds himself rocked back on his heels.

 

**

 

“You are a fucking animal!” Liam’s flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling, chest heaving. He has an enormous grin on his face.

Zayn leans in and kisses it. “Shouldn’t have teased the fuck out of me, then.”

“Oh, so it’s _my_ fault?”

“You know how it goes, babe; poke the tiger, get fucked – hard.”

“I poked the tiger? Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Laughing, Zayn runs a hand down Liam’s chest. “What would _you_ call it?”

“Minding my own business?”

Zayn snorts, pinches his left nipple. “You fucking know what it does to me when you do that.”

“Mind my own business? Well I’ll have to do more of that then.”

“Yeah, you keep minding your own business. Mind it like a fucking pro!” Before Liam can respond he slides on top of him, opens Liam’s mouth with his tongue. Liam’s hands slide automatically, first to his arse and then up into his hair. Liam hadn’t wanted him to cut his hair – they’d been playing some games that Liam had really, really appreciated – but he likes what he’s done, likes the contrast (and the fact that he can still get a good handful when he wants to)

“Aren’t you tired?” Liam’s kissing his neck, words buried in his skin.

“Not too tired to kiss you.”

“Oh, and the rest!” Liam’s snaked a hand between their bodies.

Zayn gives an involuntary twitch, inhales. “Nothing to do with _me_ ,” he tries.

“Really?” A squeeze accompanied by a bite on the shoulder.

Zayn swallows hard, tries not to move his hips. “What did I say about poking the tiger?”

“Poke it – hard?” He’s moving against Zayn’s stillness. Teasing.

“Really? You _wanna_ be fucked again?”

Liam’s answer is painted on Zayn’s chest from collarbone to lower belly aided by the tip of a wet, very clever tongue.

And Zayn helplessly watches himself being slowly taken apart.

 

**

 

At first he fully expects Liam to break his promise to devote time to _them_ over the fortnight, but instead finds himself quite pleasantly surprised.

Since Liam’s arranged everything in a manner befitting the master strategist he is, this leaves them plenty of room to simply enjoy their time together, confident in the knowledge that all’s been taken care of.

They still can’t be completely free; that was part of the agreement – to be circumspect and to understand that only Liam’s allowed to be seen out and about. But he accompanies Liam to some of his sessions – as an observer – and they’re able to go out for dinner a couple of times. Luckily there are still places in LA that are blasé about celebrities, and since they’re not engaging in public displays of affection there’s nothing to draw attention to their presence, to them being together.

They spend several days in San Francisco, which proves quite an eye opening experience. Seeing same sex couples comfortably living their lives, walking around hand-in hand makes a real impact on them both and he knows that the desire to be there, to reach that place in their lives is as strong for Liam as it is for him.

One of his proudest moments, his greatest accomplishment will be to walk on the red carpet with Liam at his side, acknowledged as his partner.

He – they – are determined to see that happen, and this trip to California only strengthens that resolve.

 

**

 

Liam’s in the shower.

Zayn’s making them a snack when he hears someone at the back of the property.

They have security, but this is a foreign country and everyone carries a gun – or so Liam’s paranoia has convinced him – so he is immediately on the alert.

Paddy’s only a shout, a call away, but he’ll feel idiotic if he calls him and it turns out to be a false alarm...

Paralysed in indecision he waits, watching the door as the figure comes into view.

It’s harry.

“Oh my, looking good, Malik.” Harry’s wearing a violently floral shirt and a pair of cut offs. Zayn’s tempted to remind him he comes from Cheshire not Cali, and that he can’t surf, either.

“Hi, Harry. Looking good yourself.” He braces himself for a Harry hug. If Liam had been here Harry would have had his hands all over Zayn’s arse, but the tease would be wasted if it’s just Zayn, so he just gets the hug.

Harry’s warm and smells like oranges. “Missed you.”

“Me too. Get my present?”

“I did. What is it?”

Zayn grins. This is a Harry thing. No-one knows how it started, but they’ve been doing it for years. “Wait and see.” Liam swears that one day he’s going to actually _tell_ him – spoil the surprise.

“Gotta tell you; Liam’s is bigger.” He’s grinning.

Zayn rolls his eyes and gets back to his task.

Harry takes the opportunity to examine their home. “Patrick let me in, by the way,” he informs, picking up an ornament.

“Well ‘Patrick’ should have let me know instead of giving me a heart attack.” No-one except Harry (occasionally) calls Paddy Patrick. Zayn can’t imagine even his mum and dad calling him Patrick. Patrick doesn’t even suit him.”

“I like it here,” he says conversationally, nodding in satisfaction as he looks around. “Good choice.”

“Thanks.”

“Where’s Liam?”

“In the bath.”

“Right.” He’s looking at him, wearing the expression that says ‘this is more than a social visit’ so Zayn waits him out, knowing he’ll get to the point sooner or later, probably sooner. There are times when Liam gets in the way as far as Harry’s concerned, his presence altering the dynamics in a way that makes the exchanging of confidences a little harder.

Zayn knows it’s sort of _his_ fault – his attention is always diverted by Liam’s presence, there’s always a part of his focus devoted strictly to him, and Harry understands this, though the subject has never come up, never been discussed.

He isn’t sure what Harry could possibly have to confide to him, but figures it must have something to do with Louis or the band, otherwise he wouldn’t bother. Well, it _could_ be Jeff, but the chances are about 100-1 against.

“S’up, bro?” He really hopes he isn’t expected to cater to Harry’s weirdly wholesome palate – he doesn’t have any bird seed in his cupboard and has no intention of sending anyone out to get some.

“Making salad?” Harry’s eyes are shining as he takes a seat at the counter.

“Sort of. Gonna plaster it in mayo, though.” Harry’s capable of eating an entire bowl of salad all by himself, and Zayn doesn’t fancy chopping any more cucumber – or tomato.

“Okay.” He reaches in, takes a scoop of veg, which he proceeds to feed into his mouth.

Used to this, Zayn ignores him, aware that the music’s changed which means Liam’s getting dressed and will be down soon. So if Harry has something to confide he needs to do it now. “Everything good?” Might as well try again. If he doesn’t bite this time Zayn’ll just leave it.

“Yeah, Zayn ‘everything’s good’.”

Zayn, back to him, rolls his eyes. Dickhead. “Great. That’s cool then, bro.”

Liam loves chicken, and since they discovered this local delicatessen has been experimenting with all kinds of flavour of chicken. Any and all forms of cooking methods and flavours, the only requirement being it must be _chicken_.

It’s hot so they’re getting used to having salads and cold meat for lunch, try to surprise each other with combination and presentation.

Harry had better not distract him...

“You look really sexy, you know.”

“Thanks, bro.”

“Liam likes it, right?”

“The ‘do’? Yeah, man. Why?”

“I know how much he likes you long.”

This time Zayn doesn’t try to hide the eyeroll. Even Harry’s double entendres are lame. “He hasn’t complained.”

“Maybe his mouth’s always too _full_ to complain.”

“Whatever, dude. You don’t wanna be talking to me about cocksuckers.”

Harry laughs, high fives him. “Okay, okay, so you two are good then?”

“Better than, bro. How bout you? You good?”

Harry nods, more solemn than Zayn anticipated. “Really good. Very happy.”

“Good.” So what’s the problem, then?

Harry shrugs, still seemingly deep in thought. “Wish you could come to the party. It’s gonna be wild.”

Harry _knows_ that kind of shit isn’t his style. “I know. Wish I could be there.” That’s sort of true – in a way. He wants to be there because it’s Harry’s 21 st and it’s a big deal for him, but doesn’t want to find himself stuck in a room full of celebs ‘having a good time’ longer than strictly necessary.

“Louis alright about not coming?”

Ah. “Course, bro. Why wouldn’t he be? Not like he wasn’t invited.”

“I know, but I do feel bad about him not coming.”

“I know, but I don’t think it’s his kinda thing. I mean, obviously he’d want to be there cos it’s your B’Day but may not be big on the big bash kinda thing.” It’s a lie, of course: Louis thrives on that kind of celeb filled event – just not when the celebs happen to be _Harry’s_ kind of celebs. But for some reason, Harry wants to be reassured. Zayn can see why, of course, is just a little surprised. Still, Louis does occasionally have this habit of springing stuff on you, stuff you’d thought he was cool with only to find he’s harbouring some resentment you hadn’t been aware of, so he can see why Harry’s checking in.

“Just wanted to make sure.” He reaches for another piece of lettuce.

“Bro, get your hands off my salad.”

“What, you saying I’m not allowed to toss your salad, Zayn.”

“Whatever, bro,” but they’re both laughing.

Harry has a unique energy. You have to stay on your toes to keep up with him, but it’s an enjoyable dance.

“You know what he’s got planned?” The details, I mean.”

“Well, no – that’s the beauty of having a surprise party – it’s a _surprise_.”

“Funny.”

“Whatever it is, he’s gonna ty to outdo me.” Zayn looks at his shining eyes and feels a weird comradeship he feels no urge to examine. For all that he and Liam are buds, the competitive edge between them is still very present – very.  So he knows exactly how that goes. And though Harry doesn’t actively advertise his competiveness it is definitely there. Obviously Jeff’s aware of it, is probably just as competitive.

Maybe that’s a thing guys do, though; he definitely can’t imagine being that competitive if his partner were female.

“You seeing him during break?”

Harry’s look says: ask a stupid question why don’t you? But all he does is nod and say: “Definitely. Can’t wait.”

Zayn wants to ask him why he can’t wait when he’s still with him, isn’t in a position to be missing him yet, but doesn’t since he knows exactly where he’s coming from.

“You looking forward to it?” he knows Harry knows what he means, doesn’t need to specify that he’s referring to the coming tour.

“I am, actually. Needed the break.” Zayn nods. “But I miss it. Can’t wait to be back on stage.”

“Me either.” And it’s true. Right now he’s feeling powerful, confident, raring to go. And the tour has come at just the right time. “Probably won’t be saying it come December, though.”

“We’ll get through it, babe.”

“We always do,” he agrees.

Another high five.

They both turn as they hear Liam singing, and Zayn is reminded that he’s _lucky_ , luckier than he ever thought he’d be, than he ever thought he had a right to be.

Friends, family – best in the world.

And Liam.

Always Liam.

In the end it always distils down till all that’s left is Liam.

 

**

 

Liam’s firming it, but Zayn knows he’s not feeling great. He hates crowds, is in constant state of high anxiety whenever they’re in airports. The last thing Liam needs is to worry about him making it through the airport unnoticed, and in spite of his assurances, Zayn knows he _will_ worry until they’re together, on the plane, in the air. Only then will he relax.

And of course knowing how Liam’s feeling causes _him_ anxiety, and he knows he has to keep that from him, which of course causes him even more anxiety.

When they’re up in the air, well then he’ll be happy, too.

Until then he’ll be a bag of nerves.

 

**

 

Paddy wakes them, and they’re still half asleep when they stumble into Sydney Airport.

The hotel is apparently a fair drive away and he feels barely human, in need of an invigorating shower, and maybe after that some more sleep, so that doesn’t bode well for his continued good mood. But it’s not like he’s going to be able to relax even then.

He honestly cannot wait for the day for when they can jet into airports together, arm in arm if they want, check in together, no military style operation necessary to hide the fact they’re travelling together.

Achieving that is going to remove a layer of frustration he honestly cannot imagine _not_ being part of their lives.

They’ve talked about it, spoken with enthusiasm about being out, the time when they’ll be able to rock up to the Grammys or the Brits together, get papped, get interviewed, asked intrusive questions about their home lives. But though they enthuse about that time to come, it’s actually _really_ hard to imagine.

For years they’ve _adjusted_ , learned to live their lives in the manner of players in a thriller, or a spy movie, and he acknowledges that living like normal people will take some time to feel real, feel right.

They part in the airport and Liam’s whisked away.

They’ll meet up later, but his absence feels like a punch in the gut.

Zayn’s used to living a double life, but it’s taken its toll, is taking its toll on Liam right now, and the sooner they end this the better everything will be.

He knows they’re going to get shat on, but knows, too, that they’ll _survive_ it.

It’s got to the point now, where the seriousness of their relationship _demands_ something from them; a willingness to step up to the plate and do _more_ than get the legal papers, the rings. They need to show the world just how much their relationship means to them – by being willing to voluntarily set it in the fires of public opinion, public scrutiny, and suffer through the torching they’re sure to receive.

He’s willing, and knows Liam is, too, because he’s _tired_ of seeing that look on Liam’s face whenever he’s forced to lie, forced to pretend not to be Zayn’s lover; tired of seeing him at a low ebb the way he was over Christmas.

Liam works too hard for the band, but it’s the lying and the deception that truly takes the greatest toll.

And he’s no longer willing to allow Liam to put himself through it.

So, things will change.

This is not in question.

The only question is whether it’s better to rip off the bandaid fast, or slow.

 

**

 

They drive him to the house they’ve rented for the purpose and the first thing he does is get on Skype.

Liam looks tired and Zayn can see he’s still upset – more upset than he was earlier.

“Babe, I’ll be with you tomorrow. Keep it together till then?”

“Hate this. Shouldn’t be this way.” He sounds a little angry, which surprises Zayn.

“Don’t, babe. Look, get yourself comfy.”

“I’m comfy. Don’t I _look_ comfy?” he pouts, knowing it’ll make him smile.

Zayn laughs. “You look a bit _too_ comfy. Couldn’t you have run an iron over that tee, at least?”

“So I have to get dressed up for phone sex? Since when?”

“Who the fuck said anything about phone sex?”

“That look in your eye.”  
“What look?”  
“That one - right there.”

And he can’t deny it; he’d definitely been planning to lead him there, just didn’t know it was that _obvious_. “Whatever. Take it off, bro.”

“Oh you object so strongly to my unironed t-shirt that you want me to take it off?”

“Want me to hang up?”

“As if you would.”

Zayn considers it, just to prove him wrong, but that’s too much damn trouble. “Strip!” he demands, cursing himself for his weakness.

One of these days he’ll be able to do that – hang up, go without, just to win. But today is most definitely not that day.

Liam needs it and _he_ most certainly does, and so long as he has breath in his lungs no way will he ever eschew the opportunity to have sex with him – phone sex, Skype sex, doesn’t make any difference; it’s sex with Liam and that’s an addiction he has no intention of ever giving up.

“Don’t know why you want to see this blubber.”

“If you don’t, I’ll make you regret it tomorrow.” Liam already knows he finds him sexy no matter what his belly looks like so he no longer has any patience with him, here.

“Promises, promises.” He’s using the Leroy voice, but taking off his t-shirt.

At last. “ _You_ know what to do.”

“You want to lick it or should I?”

“You first, then me.”

 

And he watches greedily as Liam makes a production of getting his entire index finger wet, then holding it out to him, eyes fixed on Zayn’s tongue as Zayn’s eyes fix on him.

He has no problem imagining what Liam’s skin feels like under his wet tongue, and from the sounds Liam’s making he has no trouble imagining what Zayn’s tongue feels like on his skin.

“Right, first,” he instructs, breath catching, and watches as Liam plays with his nipple, eyes closed, head back. He can barely stop himself licking the screen showing him Liam’s bare torso, can viscerally _feel_ the hard nub of Liam’s nipple teasing his tongue. “Now, the left one. Lick your finger again.”

And Liam assaults both nipples simultaneously, rubbing firm circles with his thumbs, pinching, pulling, his sounds of pleasure making Zayn breathless.

Maybe, maybe one day he’ll be able to actually _understand_ why it’s like this when he cannot imagine feeling a tenth of this during _actual_ sex with anyone else.

He’s so damn proud Liam’s his.

One day soon he’s going to be able to walk arm in arm with him, and hopefully the smug expression he’ll be wearing will give the world some tiny insight into moments like these.

But, for now, it’s all his.

Liam’s completely his, and he doesn’t _care_ if it’s politically incorrect to claim ownership over another person. Liam brings out the primal male in him and asserting his ownership is something he feels compelled to do.

Watching Liam pleasure himself for his benefit is part of it, part of the primal urge, and though there’d been a time when he’d made the excuse of the closet being responsible for this need to assert ownership he knows that’s just an excuse.

He knows, now, that when he’s no longer required to hide, when he’s free to let the world know Liam’s his he’ll be even worse; that the urge to display his ownership will kick into high gear.

He’s at peace with that, secretly counting the days when he can put his hand on him in public and _defend_ his territory...

“Your turn.”

Liam’s out of breath, though all he’s done is nipple play, and Zayn really wants to tease him. “Not so fast, babe. Not done yet.”

“I’m gonna blow if I do anything else.”

“And?”

“Want to see you.”

“In a bit. Open your legs.” He hopes his voice isn’t shaking too much, but Liam probably hardly even notices that anymore – expects it.

“Zayn...”

“No, just open your flies.” Zayn doesn’t say anything, but the fact that Liam’s changed into jeans means he knew what was coming. He knows how much Zayn likes him like that - flat on his back, flies open...

This thought has him almost dizzy with arousal, and he moans, eyes fixed on the slow tease of Liam’s hand as it heads toward his zip...

 

**

 

He’s well rested and happy when they smuggle him into the airport, and though he has a moment when he recognises the absurdity of the situation, the absurdity of the fact that he has to act like he’s just come off a flight from Dubai, it lasts only for a second. All he can think of is the fact that in a few minutes he’s going to be with Liam, going to give him the kisses he hadn’t been able to before.

And though this may not be the last time they’re forced to resort to this type of subterfuge he’s going to ensure that it soon _will_ be.

He just hopes that Liam will be gentle with him, grant him the capacity to sit comfortably tomorrow.

Apparently he’s a tease, and needs to be made to pay.

Absolutely no idea what he could possibly mean by that...

 

 


End file.
